


Because The Future Is Not Set In Stone

by Thirteenie



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirteenie/pseuds/Thirteenie
Summary: An entry from the diary of Mime's mother.





	Because The Future Is Not Set In Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pessi_mista](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pessi_mista/gifts).



Dear diary, 

Time flies, doesn't it? I see it's been 11 days since I last wrote anything here. Well, if diaries like you could reproduce, if you could give birth to little adorable baby diaries, you'd easily understand why I've been absent lately. I adore Mime, as your previous pages know so well, but I have to admit that being a mother is tougher than I'd imagined. In my dreams, I'd see myself just hugging my baby, singing him lullabies, playing with him, melting over his impossibly cute face... It's not that I can't do those things. It's just that there's a harder side to it all that includes insomnia, pain on my back, pain in my arms, pain in my nipples, and then more insomnia. I thought that I'd be swimming in a sea of love, but instead I'm drawning in a sea of exhaustion. Still, when I look at Mime's face, when I really pay attention to him and ignore all the discomfort, it feels like my baby, so fragile, so tiny, has the power to rescue me and make all the bad sensations vanish away from my mind and body. 

I mentioned the pain in my nipples above, which really has been a problem and hasn't gotten any better since my last entry, but I actually have good news about it: the midwife will come see me tomorrow. She wrote me back a couple of days ago and assured me that she can teach me to feed Mime in a way that won't hurt me anymore, that will allow for the wounds to heal. I can't wait for that. The balm only gives me temporary relief, and I really need a more permanent solution. I want to be able to look forward to feeding my baby, instead of dreading those moments.

Speaking of dreadful things, now here's some bad news: there have been talks of war these last days. Some of our neighbors seem convinced that it's going to happen. Others, not so much. I hope this is just rumors, but knowing hubby like I do, I'm afraid he's hiding something from me. Maybe he knows that this isn't a matter of if, but rather of when, and won't tell me the truth because he doesn't want to scare me. Then again, when I insisted with him about this topic last night over dinner, he laughed and said that I'm worried for nothing, that my hormones are getting the better of me, and that this is to be expected of new moms. Although the way he laughed at me hurt a little, I felt that he had a point, and dropped the subject. I'm still concerned, but maybe he's right. Maybe it's just the hormones. Not just them, but also the lack of sleep. I'd like to believe that I'm not stupid, that these things can't cloud my judgement so badly, but who knows? 

If the worst does happen after all, it's not like we'll be defenseless. Hubby is such a powerful warrior. I'm sure he can protect not only our family, but also our whole village. I guess that's one of the biggest advantages to being married to a man like him, this sense of safety. On the down side though, he wants Mime to follow in his footsteps... And maybe I'm being selfish here, like hubby always says when I bring up this subject, but I really wish our son would stay away from anything to do with fighting. I know Mime is his son too, and since I got pregnant he insisted that it would be a boy, and that he couldn't wait to teach our future boy all he'd need to know to become an even greater warrior than his father. I can respect this dream, even if I don't share it. It's only natural that a father would wish to mold his son's life after his. But there's this part of me that wonders if it's wrong for a mother to also want to have a say on her baby's future, to also want to be an example to him and teach him things. 

Hubby says we can try to have a daughter in a couple of years, and then I'll have my chance to do things my way, and he promised me he won't meddle into it at all. But what if we have another boy? And why do I have to wait until we have a girl anyway? 

Maybe I don't really have to wait. Mime is just five weeks old. It's going to be a few years until his training can begin, and even then, hubby certainly won't be spending all day with him because he has other duties to attend to. In the absence of his father, I can try and subtly do things my way somehow. And then I'll teach Mime how to hold a pencil, how to use a brush, how to choose and mix colors, how to turn what he sees into drawings and paintings, and then how to do the same with whatever he visualizes in his imagination. I know that his father is a professional warrior, while I'm just an amateur artist, like hubby always stresses. But I think there has to be some value in what I know, and I want to pass my knowledge down to Mime. And hopefully my passion too. If he becomes as passionate about art as I am, then he should be able to pursue a related career. I've never had this opportunity, but being a boy, he shouldn't have a problem. Then again, if he decides that art isn't for him, or that it is for him but just as a passtime, so be it. I will respect his choices, and will support him no matter what he decides to do with his life. He can become a warrior if it turns out that's what he genuinely wants. All I wish is to have a chance to show him that this isn't the only way, that his fate isn't set in stone, however much his father may disagree.

Writing the previous paragraph gave me the urge to pick my pencils and brushes back up and make some new art. Or resume some old things that I left unfinished when I took my break from painting three months ago. Now it's a great time to do that. Hubby is at work, so there won't be any jokes about my sketches, and Mime is sleeping, so there won't be any crying for a while. Therefore, I must leave you now, my dear diary. But know that I've missed you, and I'll be coming back to you many, many more times in the future, I promise.


End file.
